Ghosts of the Past, Revisited M7 ATFOW
by senorabutterfly
Summary: The boys go back to the ghost ranch and things get even more interesting than before...


Ghosts of the Past, Revisited M7 ATF/OW AU

Two vehicles pulled up and parked next to the faded sign for the Wild Horse Ranch and seven figures got out eagerly. The ATF agents had gotten busy with a case after their last intriguing and somewhat eerie visit to the 'ghost ranch', so several weeks had passed before they could get back. Now they were both excited and a bit unsettled as they wondered what might have changed since their last exploration and what they would see this time.

Chris and Vin had originally found the ranch. After having experienced the sighting of a horse that just disappeared, and finding things that seemed in very good condition after over a hundred years, the pair had taken the rest of the team to the spot the next day.

Not only had the seven of them seen the mysterious stallion and the stuff that Larabee and Tanner had told them about, there were also things there that time that hadn't been the day before. Plus, what seemed to be old west versions of themselves had appeared to them. So they were quite curious as to what they would experience on this trip, if feeling a few trepidations as well. While they all had to admit to happenings in the past that they couldn't explain, figures that just dissolved into thin air and objects that appeared between one day and the next were new to all of them. Josiah and Ezra had tried in their few off hours during the case to find out more about the mysterious ranch, but had come up with little in the way of information on its history or who had originally founded it. In fact, the small paragraph in the book Vin had read and one on a website giving abandoned places in the west to visit were the only mentions of the ranch they could find, and those made it sound rather run-down and of less interest than the other sites listed.

"I can't believe all that neat stuff is still there." commented JD as the men locked the vehicles and started walking toward the cluster of buildings in front of them. "I mean I'm glad, but it looks like someone would have stolen the guns and stuff a long time ago."

Josiah walked beside the younger agent, keeping to a slow gait so that his long legs wouldn't outpace the smaller figure.

"I could be wrong JD, but I get the feeling that not everyone sees what we did. From the two brief descriptions we saw, I'm thinking that others may only see a few ramshackle buildings and a lot of dust."

Vin nodded his head under the tan wide-brimmed hat he wore. "Yep. Reckon the ghosts or spirits or whatever they are would keep the stuff we saw safe." he opined softly. The tribes he had lived with for a time believed in spirits and visions, so he didn't have as much trouble as some of the others accepting the possibility.

Nathan moved surely next to Sanchez. "I know it'd sound weird if we hadn't seen what we did, but I agree with Vin and Josiah. Rain grew up with the Seminoles, and they put stock in spirits and such. And gotta admit I saw some things I couldn't understand when I was stationed in Louisiana."

Even Ezra nodded his head. "Indeed, Mr. Jackson. Mother left me with an aunt once in New Orleans for several months, and I experienced a few manifestations that could not be explained by common sense."

His drawl, which seemed even thicker, gave the city the honeyed, lazy sound of 'N'awlins'. Chris had experienced the same thing happening with him and Vin in the previous visits, so wasn't surprised at the deepening of the undercover agent's accent as they approached the ranch compound.

"But why us?" asked Buck of no one in particular. "Looks like we'd a' heard about it if our ancestors were famous gunmen or somethin'."

"Not necessarily." said Jackson with a look of concentration on his face. "Even with the dime novel, reckon if they didn't travel around a lot like Wild Bill or the Earps, folks might'a just forgot about 'em in time."

"Or maybe it was meant to be that way…" Josiah trailed off as the seven reached the inner fence and slowed even more.

Looking around at the weathered but still sound structures, nothing appeared different at first. But Vin quickly noticed several sets of shod hoof prints leading to the barn that hadn't been there before. Kneeling, the slender form inspected them carefully.

"Looks like seven horses with riders. Couple leave deeper prints than the rest."

Chris simply nodded, not really surprised.

"You think it was the old west versions of ourselves?" asked JD with excitement.

Tanner dipped his head in assent. "Reckon so."

Wilmington looked over at his old friend. "What d' you make of all this, Pard?"

Broad shoulders shrugged. "I don't really know yet what it's about, Buck. But since we all saw it, I have to believe it's real and that we experienced it for a reason."

"Maybe they need help or something." offered Dunne with a little bounce. Though he'd developed into a steady and dependable agent, the youngest still had times when he exhibited an almost teenage excitement that often exasperated the others, but also entertained them and kept them feeling young as well. It was hard not to get drawn into JD's enthusiasm and positive outlook.

"Who knows, Kid. Reckon we'll just have to see what happens this time." answered Vin with a shrug that matched Larabee's.

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In spite of the fact that the tracks leading to the barn were intriguing, the group decided to check out the bunkhouse first, as they had previously. Chris swung the front door open carefully, the hinges making not a sound, almost as if they had been recently oiled.

When the men stepped inside, they all gravitated to the two tables where the cards and poker chips had been scattered about the last time they visited. The Remington and derringer still rested on the surface of one, along with the full deck of cards and the chips. The ashtray contained the cheroot as well, but the cigar now looked as if it had been smoked down to a stub and empty shot glasses rested at each place. The dust was almost negligent as they looked around carefully.

"Shit, it looks like they just got up from a hand of poker." murmured Buck softly.

"Indeed. One gets the impression that the players may be back momentarily to continue their game." agreed Ezra as he reached out to lightly finger the ace of spades that rested in front of him.

"Wonder what we'd see if we set up a surveillance camera?" whispered JD thoughtfully. All of the men were speaking quietly, almost as if afraid of disturbing the ghosts that seemed to linger around them.

"Maybe the figures we saw last time, maybe nothing." answered Josiah.

"If we got the horse on camera, looks like we should be able to photograph the men." offered Nathan practically. "Of course, it's not like the normal rules of things apply here, either." he added as a caveat.

The rest simply nodded as they walked around gently touching a few of the items on the tables and hanging on the pegs near the doors. The cheroot seemed to fit in Chris' fingers like it belonged, and Vin found himself twirling a shot glass around in his hand absently as if he'd done it a thousand times. Ezra gingerly gathered up the cards and then started shuffling them dexterously. The worn pasteboards felt right in his grip as he flicked one across his knuckles and then fluidly inserted it back into the deck.

Buck was drawn to the silver pocket watch now resting on one of the tables as if it had been used as part of a bet, and JD was running his fingers around the brim of an Eastern-style bowler hat that now hung with the duster and rope on the wall by the door. Nathan picked up a wicked-looking throwing knife and ran his thumb carefully along it to test the edge, feeling like it was the natural thing to do. Josiah had the red-eye bottle that had rested in the middle of the second table in his hands, fingers absently pulling the cork stopper as he bent to sniff of the amber contents that occupied the bottom inch or so of the glass container.

"Anybody else feel like we've done this before?" asked the profiler quietly as he sat the bottle back down with a small thunk.

"Yep", "Indeed", "Yeah", and other forms of agreement answered him softly. The rest put down the items they were holding and all seven pulled out their phones to document the new additions to the collection, just to prove to themselves that they weren't having a mass delusion or something.

The rest of the long room seemed the same, so the men let themselves out and made sure the door was securely fastened. Looking at each other, they all fell in step behind Larabee as the blond headed for the barn next.

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Once again the doors opened soundlessly as Chris and Vin pulled them apart. Seven sets of eyes peered intently into the gloom of the large building, and then the owners of the gazes stepped softly inside.

Separating a little, the men moved to check out the stalls and other parts of the barn. Tanner and Standish pulled open a couple of the stall doors, not quite sure what to expect. Now, instead of the old hay and dried-up bits of oats and corn, there was fresh straw on the floor and what looked like new pieces of grain in the feed troughs. Water glistened in the buckets fastened to the back walls. The areas appeared to have been shoveled, but the faint odor of manure lingered in the still air, unlike both visits before when dust was the only noticeable smell.

Buck and JD climbed the ladder to peer into the loft above the main floor. The other times there had been only the remains of old hay in the space, but now a large pile of freshly dried grass occupied the open area, adding a pleasant aroma to the atmosphere. A wooden-handled pitchfork hung from a nail near the opening.

Josiah and Nathan walked carefully down the center aisle between the stalls, making sure not to step on the shod hoof prints that now adorned the dirt floor. Scuff marks from boots appeared as well, the prints not distinct but definitely male in appearance. It looked like seven men had led their mounts into the barn and then stabled them. Used saddles now rested over rails between the stalls and matching bridals hung from pegs in the support posts. The scent of damp wool from the saddle blankets added to the odors drifting around the large, open space.

Chris checked out the things that each pair pointed out to him, and then the lean form started strolling toward the back. After a few pictures, the rest slowly followed him.

When the door to the feed storage area was pulled open, bins partially filled with fresh grain met the men's bemused gazes. Vin moved over to dip his hand in some oats, letting the particles sift through his fingers as he examined the flakes. Here the smell of oats, corn, and molasses overrode the more earthy scent of the stalls.

Larabee stopped to sniff appreciatively. The molasses was used to give working horses extra energy, and the odors reminded him of his own stable as he inhaled deeply. Green eyes flicked around the room as he did so, taking in the old-fashioned burlap feed sacks stacked neatly on a shelf and several extra wooden scoops that rested beside them.

Once again the quiet figures snapped a few pictures, then they moved back out into the barn proper. They were standing near the back doors when they all heard a familiar whinny from outside.

Sliding the doors open soundlessly, all seven peered out in curiosity.

Just behind the nearest corral the white horse stood pawing the ground with one elegant forefoot. His silvery mane moved as he nodded his head several times, almost as if greeting the visitors.

"Hey, big fella. Easy…it's just us." crooned Chris softly, long legs carrying him out the doors almost without conscious thought. The stallion stopped scraping the dirt, standing at ease with his ears pricked forward as the blond walked slowly toward him, hand outstretched.

The gorgeous creature let the former horse trainer get close enough to touch again this time, sticking out his nose as Larabee paused a couple of feet away. Chris carefully reached to rub the long face with sure strokes, getting several in before the animal shook his head. When the stallion turned to look at the other men grouped just outside the barn doors, Chris let his fingers move to stroke the gleaming neck. The horse turned his attention back to the tall form, pushing his muzzle into Larabee's still outstretched hand.

Motioning with his free arm, the leader continued talking to and petting the large equine. Reading his friend's motion correctly, Vin gathered up a handful of oats and slowly carried them to the pair.

Chris held out his palm and Tanner poured half of the grain into it. Extending it to the stallion, unsure of exactly what would happen, Larabee couldn't stop the small smile that curved up his mouth as the horse lowered his head and began lipping the oats out of his hand gently.

When those were gone, Vin held his out as well, a matching grin covering his face as the creature shifted its attention to him and accepted the offering.

"Wasn't sure if a spirit horse could eat or not." murmured the sharpshooter wryly, blue eyes fastened on the dark ones of the stallion.

"Figured maybe he could since there was fresh food in the barn and stalls. And I'm not sure what he is…" answered Larabee softly.

The two men stayed still as the horse ate the last of the oats, then stepped back a pace when the shining apparition shook his head and pawed at the ground again. As the pair watched, a black horse with a white star came into view a short distance away. Neighing to the white, the ebony steed pawed the ground once as well, then the light-colored stallion turned and began trotting toward the newcomer. Both stopped to look at the men, then as one they turned and started toward the distant trees. They hadn't even made it there when they just disappeared into thin air.

"Shit, that still gives me chills even when I expect it." mumbled Chris about the disappearing act as he and Vin searched the area with their eyes, finding nothing.

Nodding in agreement, and mumbling something about 'eerie', Vin turned with Larabee and the duo headed back to the barn, Tanner checking the photos he'd managed to snap of the two horses as they walked.

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"What did he feel like when you touched him?" asked JD when the two rejoined the rest of the group. "Did he actually eat the feed? What was the black like?" continued the brunet almost in one breath.

"Slow down, Kid. You're gonna pass out if ya don't stop for air." said Vin with a small laugh.

Chris answered Dunne's questions the best he could. "Same as last time he let me pet him, JD. Felt like a normal horse, well-muscled and solid. And yeah, he ate the oats. And the black looked a lot like Pony. About 15 hands, good conformation, with a star on his forehead. Think he may have been shod, too. Seemed like the one my old west incarnation rode when we saw 'em last time we were here."

Vin dipped his head in agreement. "Think yer right about that, Cowboy. I'll go check the tracks before we leave if we have time."

"Seems a bit odd that ghost horses get hungry." murmured Josiah thoughtfully. The profiler was trying to remember what he'd heard and read about spirits and such in the past. Of course those didn't have corporeal bodies like the stallion seemed to have either…

"Maybe he don't need 'ta eat, just likes the taste." suggested Nathan with a frown. The medic too was sifting through the scanty information he had on the subject of ghosts and specters. He was pretty sure they didn't actually need food to survive, since they weren't technically 'alive'.

Chris shook his head wearily, one hand going up to massage the bridge of his nose. "I don't know what the horses are, or what they need. The whole thing just confuses the hell out of me right now, so I don't have an answer for any of it."

Accepting that neither did the rest, the group carefully closed the doors to the barn and headed toward the ranch house.

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The door opened on well-oiled hinges as the seven men entered the two-story dwelling. This time the dust seemed to have been swept away, and the floor boards looked somehow newer than they had the first two times the group had visited. The furniture was in the same places, but now a full decanter of whiskey sat on the coffee table with seven clean glasses around it, almost as if waiting for them. A book rested on the polished surface as if someone had just put it down, and a deck of cards was lying on the armrest of one of the large leather-covered chairs, the ace of spades turned upward on top.

Considering the whiskey an invitation of sorts, the men sat down and each grabbed a glass while Josiah poured them all a finger or two of the amber liquid. JD didn't really care for the strong liquor, but manfully downed a small portion with the rest of the group. Vin reached over and pounded the younger man on the back when he choked on the fiery libation.

"Nothin' like a good gut-warmer huh, Kid?"

Ezra's green eyes flicked to the sharpshooter in surprise. "Gut-warmer, Mr. Tanner? You're beginnin' to even sound like you're from this era."

"You ain't soundin' quite like yourself either, Pard." mentioned Buck as he took note of the southerner's deepening accent, which was now thick as molasses.

"Ain't none 'a us soundin' exactly like our modern versions, Bucklin'." answered Vin, his voice a bit raspier than normal.

The conversation was interrupted by a noise from upstairs that resembled spurs jingling as someone walked across the floor.

Seven hands reached for their pistols at the soft sound. Setting down the now empty glass, Chris made a silent motion with his hand. The others nodded and spread out. The leader himself headed silently for the stairs, Vin and Buck following. The rest took up positions at the foot of the steps and covering the door, just in case.

Larabee took the stairs two at a time, long legs moving fluidly and quietly. He reached the top just in time to see what appeared to be the corner of a black duster disappear into the room that he considered 'his'. Buck and Vin were right behind him.

When the hazel eyes glanced at the other two men, Tanner nodded that he'd seen the dark coat or whatever it was too. Wilmington was too far down to have gotten a glimpse, so he just looked at his oldest friend in puzzlement. Chris mouthed that he'd explain later.

Seeing nothing else, the trio moved carefully into the hall. Larabee waved the other two toward the opposite sides of the door in question, and then stepped confidently toward it himself. Turning the knob, one tanned hand threw the wooden panel inward with a quick thrust.

Almost expecting to see his western counterpart, the blond was somewhat nonplussed to find that the room was empty. The ebony duster was now lying across the foot of the bed, the black flat-crowned hat that had been there before resting on top.

Booted feet carried the tall form to the wardrobe, which was the only place someone could hide. Pulling open the doors with one hand while the other leveled the pistol, the lean figure felt a little silly when nothing but clothes met his gaze.

Bending, he checked under the bed and behind the floor-length curtains just to be sure, but found only wooden floor and walls.

Calling that it was clear, he put his gun away and scrutinized the room to see what else was different. Buck waved the other members of the team up, then the ladies' man moved quietly to the room that held the clothing that he'd tried on before. Vin did the same.

When the rest reached the top, they separated into the other rooms, each taking the one that seemed natural to them. All seven felt as if they knew which rooms were 'theirs' and had entered the spaces many times.

Phones out to document whatever changes they found, the men began searching the rooms.

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Chris looked carefully around the space that seemed very familiar to him, in spite of the fact that he'd only been there twice before. Dark-garbed legs carried him back to the wardrobe to glance at the clothes. The ebony pants and bib-front shirt were still there, as were the variously hued other shirts. They were now joined by a hip-length black jacket, a dark vest, a handful of striped shirts, and a few other items. The primary color was still ebony, but as with the modern figure the cotton and wool shirts provided a touch of color and pattern that kept the imposing figure from being quite as somber as people often tended to think of him.

Several pairs of black boots rested in the bottom of the large piece, and there was a second set of silver spurs with the dark, silver-trimmed harness as well. When the well-muscled figure looked in the drawer that Vin had opened before, the black and silver gunbelt and bone-handled Colt were in place, along with a second .45 and old-time boxes of ammunition. A couple of well-cared for rifles rested in the wooden rack on the wall, and there were a few more books in the small case near the window. The old coins and pocket knife still resided on the table by the bed, a book now lying open near them as if the occupant had been reading in bed earlier. Chris pulled open the top drawer of the chest and froze as he looked down at the mementos it held. A tin-type of a dark haired woman and little boy looked back at him, their appearance uncannily similar to his late wife and son. A gold locket rested with the photo, along with a plain gold wedding band and a carved wooden horse. Feeling as if he knew exactly who those items had belonged to, the blonde pressed his lips together to control the stab of pain that went through the region of his heart.

He stood peering unseeingly at the keepsakes for a few minutes, visions of flames and a burning house flashing through his mind…those of an older version mingling with the more modern memories of his own. A single tear escaped out of the corner of one eye, then he wrenched his mind back to the present. Shutting the drawer a bit more forcefully than he'd intended, the blond resumed his exploration of the room.

Next door, Vin had discovered more clothing in 'his' wardrobe too. A second leather coat, this one brown with beaded fringe, hung among the tan pants and several more shirts had joined the red and blue ones that had been there before. Square-toed leather boots rested on the floor of the heavy piece of furniture, and a pair of spurs sat next to them. When he moved to investigate the chest, half of a drawer was filled with colorful bandanas.

Strolling over to the gun rack that rested on the wall near the bed, the sharpshooter picked up a Winchester rifle that felt completely comfortable in his hands. The mare's leg and its holster were now hanging on the bedpost and the cavalry hat was thrown negligently on the bed as if the owner of the room had just come in and divested himself of the items. Vin let his hands roam over the rifle in appreciation before he put it back, then he sat down on the edge of the bed. Looking at the small table that sat to the side, he noticed a narrow drawer underneath it. Curiously, he pulled it out and peered at the yellowed pieces of paper inside. Long fingers reached to get the top page, which appeared to be covered with words carefully printed in a handwriting that reminded him of his own.

As he glanced over the almost painfully neat letters, he discovered they formed a poem. The evocative lines captured his attention, telling in brief but eloquent words of being alone and looking over one's shoulder until six brothers came along to end the solitude and watch the writer's back. Without any names being mentioned, Vin knew the verses referred to his old west counterpart's companions that matched the modern Tanner's family and teammates as if made of the same cloth. Holding the poem in his hand, Vin's mind wandered for a few minutes as visions of the old west seven he had seen on the last trip mingled with the modern versions accompanying him now.

The others were having similar experiences in the rooms that belonged to their alter egos. More clothes now hung in the wardrobes, books and other items had joined the possessions they had seen on the previous visit, and they all felt even more at home than they had the first time.

Josiah was thoughtfully fingering a wooden, hand-carved cross that hung from a beaded leather cord that seemed to combine Christian and Native accents. Scenes of a nineteenth century version of his sister Hannah being cared for in a convent mixed with memories of her in the institution where she now resided under the care of modern nuns. A sad look crossed his face as he realized that her mental state seemed to be the same in both time periods.

Ezra stood in a similar state of reverie as he read a letter from the latter half of the 1800s that was covered in an elegant flowing script that closely resembled his mother's. Addressed to Ezra Standish c/o The Wild Horse Ranch, the faded paper held the embossed name of a once-famous San Francisco hotel and told of the other Maude's exploits in the city with her latest beau. The gambler had mental images of the blonde in long skirts and a tiny hat that superimposed themselves over his own memories until he wasn't sure which were his and which his previous incarnation's.

Meanwhile, Buck was holding a pocket watch on a chain as a scene of a pretty lady and her precocious daughter played through is mind, the younger girl holding the watch out from the window of a stagecoach as his old west counterpart ran after it. They resembled a woman that Wilmington himself had dated for a short while and her child. He smiled in reminiscence at the memory of her telling him that problems were only opportunities with thorns, then his expression turned sober as the images of the two of them being held prisoner by her former bank-robbing boss mingled with visions of the same thing happening to his nineteenth century self. Both scenarios involved Chris pretending to shoot Buck to keep the thieves from doing it in reality. A small shiver coursed over the broad shoulders at the combined images.

In Nathan's room, the healer sat in the rocking chair in front of the window, a beaded necklace in his dark hands as he gently ran his fingers over it. Images of his alter ego and a period version of his girlfriend Rain ran through his mind, the lovely figure wearing the necklace that he currently held. Her hair was curlier and worn in a more free manner, and his image sported the now familiar black hat, cross-draw gun rig, and throwing knives on his back. Pictures of the earlier versions entwined in his thoughts with current memories of the pair of them, until they were all mixed up in his mind. Apparently the couple had been destined for each other in both lifetimes however. The idea put a smile on his lips and a warm feeling in his chest as he watched the scenes play behind his eyes.

JD was in the final bedroom putting his agent-learned search lessons to use as he rummaged through the wardrobe and other pieces of furniture. Wondering absently why a frog-gigger was in 'his' room, he put the item back in the corner where he found it and moved on to the small bookcase that sat near the bed. Several of the period dime novels were on the shelves, the one about The Magnificent Seven by Jock Steele now lying on the bed as if the occupant had been reading it and gotten disturbed. Chris had returned the slim volume the last time the men had been at the ranch, but had placed it in the case downstairs where he had originally found it. Somehow JD wasn't surprised to see it in the room that was his counterpart's though.

As he lightly touched the various volumes on the shelves, his eyes were drawn to a series of leather-bound books that occupied the bottom one. Pulling out the one that looked the least worn, he carefully and somewhat gingerly flipped it open. On the first page, handwriting that looked much like his own stated that this was the journal of John Dunne and gave the time period covered by the entries, the date being a few years after the copyright on the dime novel he noted.

Hands shaking, he turned to the first entry. As he read his old west version's accounts of the activities that he and his six 'brothers' were involved in, the words evoked detailed images in his head. Though of a time over a hundred years in the past, they sounded just like the sort of things his modern companions would do in the same situations. Similar happenings from the two periods combined in his mind, the events seeming to overlap each other with uncanny similarity.

After reading several pages, he realized that Buck or one of the others would come looking for him if he took the time to peruse every one. Wanting to know what happened though, he flipped to the back of the thick work. As he found the last entry, his eyes grew wide as he digested its contents. Finishing, he grabbed the tome up and ran to the room Chris occupied.

The blonde looked up as Dunne skidded to a stop a few feet from him. A pair of black leather gloves and a striped serape were in his hands where he'd been examining them as visions of a beaded curtain in a Mexican cantina for some reason flitted through his mind.

"JD…you alright?"

The younger man gave a breathless nod. "Yeah, Chris. But I found a journal of the old west JD Dunne!"

Chris put the items he held down and gave the smaller brunet his full attention.

"And…?"

"I think I know why the other versions of ourselves have appeared to us! They want our help!"

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Ten minutes later the seven modern figures were gathered in the main room of the house. They were somehow unsurprised to find that six of the glasses on the table had been filled with a couple of fingers of the excellent Scotch that they had tried. Each man moved to what they thought of as 'their' spot, either on the couches or in the leather-covered chairs. When they were all settled, Chris took a reflective sip of his whisky and then nodded at JD.

"Alright Kid…what did you find?"

Dark hair flew as the excited form reached to absently flip his long bangs out of his face.

"It was the Magnificent Seven from the book that started the ranch. They were originally protecting a little frontier town further south, but when they cleared out most of the bad element, the town got too tame for them. The people eventually got to where they didn't want such dangerous gunmen around their kids, and the railroad finally got their way and brought in an official marshal to keep the peace the way they did back east. Vin's twin knew about this part of the country and that it still had places less settled and rough, and he'd heard about this "valley of wild horses". Chris…uh, his old west self… decided he'd like to get back to raising and training horses, at least in his spare time. Vin and Buck were more than willing to come with him and become partners. Ezra's counterpart realized that they wouldn't be that far from Denver, which had become a fairly large and wealthy city, so he was enticed to join them, and the nuns at the convent where the other Josiah's sister was told him about a doctor in Denver who was opening a care facility for people like Hannah."

At the profiler's curious look, JD paused to glance down at a section of the journal he held. "Apparently your old west version wasn't sure if it would be best to move Hannah, but he wanted to check the new place out just to see what it was like."

Sanchez nodded in understanding. It was hard enough dealing with his sister's mental issues in the current day and age, he could imagine how stressful it must have been almost a hundred and fifty years ago.

Flicking a look back to the page to return his train of thought, Dunne continued.

"Nathan was apparently quite taken with the other Rain." The current version of the healer grinned.

JD smiled back and then went on with his story. "According to the journal, he originally was going to stay, but there was talk of the government moving Rain's group to a reservation, so he asked her if she wanted to come with him and she said yes. Her father had been killed and she wasn't interested in the man the tribe had picked to be her husband, but she _was_ attracted to the other Nathan. So they joined the other five. Apparently there was another Casey too, and my…whatever he was…was crazy about her. Though she seems to have made him _go_ crazy sometimes just like my version does me, from what he wrote!"

The others laughed as they pictured the old west versions of JD and Casey Wells and compared them mentally to the modern duo. They didn't imagine that the other Dunne understood women any better than their JD did, so the couple were probably always sparring like their counterparts.

"Anyway, when she found out that he was thinking of going with the rest of the guys, she just up and told him that she was coming too, like it or lump it!" He rolled his eyes at the knowing snickers that escaped his audience. "So all seven ended up coming up here together."

He paused to draw a breath and turn a couple of pages in the journal.

Buck looked on in confusion. "Ok, I get that they came up here and settled on the land and started the ranch. But what happened to the ladies? There's no sign they lived here. And why would the old west versions need our help?"

"Give me a minute, Buck! I'm gettin' to that…"

Wilmington flounced impatiently in his chair. "Well, get to it a little faster, Kid!"

Hazel eyes speared the ladies' man with a mini version of the Larabee glare. "I had to explain how they got here or it wouldn't have made sense."

"Not sure it makes a whole lotta sense now, JD." mumbled Tanner with a lazy grin.

"Oh, bite me!" groused Dunne with an irate look. He was getting tired of the two men cutting in and distracting him.

"Nah, ya ain't my type." laughed the sniper and explosives tech at the same time.

When the rest of the group chuckled out loud, JD puffed himself up to his most impressive size. Not that the effort seemed to affect the other six that much, but they did shut up and give him their attention once again.

"Okay…umm…" he glanced down at the closely written page in front of him again. "Like I said, Casey and Rain came with all seven of the guys. They weren't married yet though, so the girls got a place at the boarding house in a little town a few miles from here, while the men settled and started the ranch. My alter ego and Nathan's didn't want to start a family until they could provide well for them, so they agreed all seven men would stay and work the ranch for a couple of years. That way they could get the buildings all put up and some horses caught, broke, and sold. The white stallion is the first one they caught and Chris kept him as the founding stud. The ladies got work in the town, Casey in the general store, and Rain helping clean the boarding house, both willing to wait until the guys were ready."

He took another breath and continued. "Apparently our alter egos stayed on the ranch for a while, but then some guys came to town and started causing trouble, threatening the citizens and harassing Casey and Rain and some of the other women."

A look of pride crossed his face. "Of course, when the seven heard about it, they rode into town and took care of things. The bad men either left with injuries or were carried out in a pine box. Like before, the guys were asked to protect the townsfolk. They agreed and started dividing their time between the ranch and the town. Eventually JD and Nathan married Casey and Rain and both couples lived in town, JD as the sheriff and Nathan as the town's healer like they'd been in the other place."

Hazel eyes turned to look at the rest of the group as the exuberant voice lowered and became somber. "None of the others married that I could tell. Chris didn't want to put anyone else in danger, and the rest were all affected by things that had happened earlier, so they only had temporary relationships. Due to the remoteness and the presence of gold and silver in the mountains, apparently the area never quite lost its wild nature. Chris was still well-known and getting challenged occasionally by people who wanted to see if they were faster than him…" JD flicked a glance his hero's way. "…none of them were, by the way. Sounds like your old west incarnation never lost his skill with a gun. Anyway, the town kept needing them and the folks here never got leery of having them around."

Buck shook his head. "All that's interestin' JD, but ya still ain't told us why they need _our_ help now…"

The kid's voice got even softer as he looked down at the last page of the journal. "I don't know _exactly_ what they want us to do, but I think they need us to protect the town they were responsible for. This last entry says they were all riding out to try to stop a gang who were suspected of stealing guns, ammunition, and explosives from a military shipment on a train. The thieves had decided to take refuge in the town and make it their base of operations, and the whole place was in danger what with all the munitions and dynamite stored around. They went out, but there's no record I could find of them coming back…"

All of the men got solemn, skitters of premonition running up each one's back at the words.

Without thinking, Chris asked if JD knew where the town was located. The kid replied that he had a rough idea from the journal.

"So we gonna go check it out, Stud?" asked Buck softly.

"I don't know why, but yeah…I think we should. Everyone agree?"

The others automatically nodded, almost as if the decision had been made for them long ago.

Chris dipped his head once in acknowledgement. A feeling of not being alone cause him to place one hand on his weapon as he glanced around the room. His fingers released the butt of his pistol as he watched seven men in boots and western hats join his own team in the space, each buckling on a gunbelt and smiling in approval.

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Finishing their drinks, the modern seven spent a few minutes deciphering where the town in question was located, Chris getting the look in his eyes that signaled that the leader was playing possible scenarios in his mind as they spoke.

Buck recognized the signs and turned to his friend with raised eyebrows.

"What're ya thinkin', Pard?"

Sculpted lips gave the grin that had made many men and a few women quake in fear.

"If our counterparts here…" one hand gestured gracefully at the western-garbed figures that were waiting patiently near them "…are plannin' to go with us, I'm thinkin' that maybe we should dress like them. I don't know what we're gonna be facin', but if they can let others see them like we do, then it would be a pretty neat tactic for mis-direction and disorientation if it looks like there are fourteen of us instead of just seven."

The ghostly Larabee dipped his head in agreement, a matching smirk curving his mouth and the icy green gaze sparkling in anticipation.

Vin nodded too, brain easily following the blond's line of thinking. "If they can't get physically hurt anymore, would be handy to have 'em provide a distraction if any shootin' starts."

His alter ego beamed in approval of the suggestion, blue eyes like the sniper's own twinkling with mirth at the idea of the confusion the group could cause.

Chris glanced at his old west image. "Can you boys do that?"

The dark-garbed figure nodded again, smile getting even bigger. Then all seven modern men jumped a bit when a voice exactly like their Larabee's drawled out a pleased "Yeah, we can."

Old west Vin gave a teasing grin and a wink as he stood slouched behind his present-day incarnation. "Well, reckon Chris done used up his three words for today boys."

A glare that was as impressive as the ATF leader's speared the smirking Tanner, but the nineteenth century version didn't seem to pay much more attention to it than the modern one did.

JD looked around at the western forms with a combination of excitement and surprise. "You can speak!"

His alter ego gave him a withering look. "Sure, we can talk. What'd ya think…we were dumb?"

The older version of Josiah gave a benign look, cutting off the smaller figure.

"Now JD, they have no way of knowin' what we're capable of." rumbled the deep baritone. The bright blue gaze swung to the visiting Dunne. "We've always been able to, but you fellas are just now gettin' enough in tune with us to be able to hear us. It takes time and patience to connect fully. And you have to be open to the presence of things that can't be explained rationally for it to work at all."

Ezra spoke up for the first time in a few minutes. "So if one has to be open to the unknown to see and hear you, how will you be able to effect the actions of any miscreants we may encounter?"

The emerald-jacketed gambler beside him gave a smile that showed his gold tooth. "Oh, we've discovered that most anyone who visits 'ghost' towns or ranches is somewhat susceptible to the idea of sprits and other manifestations, even if they don't consciously realize it. One just tends to expect the unexplained in locations such as this."

Old west Buck gave a chuckle as he rocked backward on his heels, hand tucked into his waistband near his gun. "They might not be able to see or hear us, but just a piece 'a furniture movin' or a card floatin' through thin air is enough to spook most folks. They can't explain it, so they usually wanna just get the hell out!"

All fourteen figures smiled.

Nathan looked at his counterpart with a puzzled frown. "How do y'all keep other people from seein' and stealin' all this stuff?"

Healer Jackson shrugged broad shoulders. "Don't rightly know _how_ we do it, but we can just think that we don't want someone to experience things as they are, and all they see is dust and run-down buildin's. Seems 'ta come with the whole bein' a spirit thing…"

"So you can obviously handle real objects..." mused Josiah out loud. "Can you shoot a gun?"

Old west Chris gave an evil smirk. "Yep. Can make a bullet hit where we aim too, but we can't do lethal damage. Guess it's part of the package." Duster-clad shoulders echoed his Nathan's shrug.

ATF Larabee sported a copy of his alter ego's smile. "If you boys can do some flesh wounds and make a lot of noise, ought to be enough to help us out. We should be able to take care of the rest."

Vin turned to the older version of the blond. "So did we get it right? Ya need us to get rid of somebody usin' the old town ya used to protect?"

Gunfighter Chris dipped his head once, lips thinning into a serious expression. "Yeah. Some of your…what do you call 'em? Gun-runners?...have taken over the town. No one actually lives there anymore, but it's our job to protect even the buildings, and they've got enough weapons and ammunition stored there to take out the whole area. Plus even as…" the gaze flicked to the elegantly attired gambler nearby as he searched for the words he wanted.

"Non-corporeal beings" supplied the suave figure as he walked the ace of spades over his fingers absently and then stuck it back into the deck of Stutz cards he held.

"Yeah, those…we can't stand by and let the men at the town risk the lives of present-day people."

Old west Tanner looked serious now. "Don't reckon they want all those guns and explosives just to get jackrabbits fer dinner."

Both groups nodded silently in agreement, then the modern versions headed upstairs to change.

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The two Larabee's decided that going to the town on horseback would allow them a better chance to sneak up on the gunrunners. The team's counterparts called up their mounts for the present-day seven. The spirit versions didn't have to ride to move from place to place, they just enjoyed the familiar sensations and the company of the horses that they'd known for over a hundred years.

As the modern men saddled the animals, their alter egos explained that they'd gone after the munition thieves that JD had read about in the journal, coming up on them just outside of the town. Unfortunately, upon finding that they weren't going to beat Larabee's group with standard gunfire, the men they were after had decided to use some of the dynamite in their stash. They'd seriously overestimated how much it would take, and the resulting blast had created a crater where the seven men had been taking shelter behind some rocks. Instead of being blown to bits, somehow Larabee's group had changed into the state they now found themselves. The train robbers, on the other hand, had done away with themselves as well as their opponents, and their ending wasn't the fortunate variety that had overtaken the seven.

When Nathan asked about Rain and Casey, the old west version said that since the women hadn't been involved in the explosion they hadn't been transformed like the seven had. The white stud had followed them however, so he became like the horses they rode when the accident occurred.

No one understood what had happened exactly or how the whole thing worked, including those who had been experiencing the unusual form of existence for over a century. Having explained all they could, the spirit versions waited while the ATF team mounted. The horses felt completely solid and real, but could appear and disappear at will apparently. Unfortunately when they decided to disappear, it left their corporeal riders flat on their asses, as Vin found out the hard way. Apparently the old west version of Peso had as much of a wicked sense of humor as his modern incarnation! The sniper picked himself up muttering something about 'ornery mules' and 'kickin' to hell and back' while a laughing spirit Tanner managed to coax the black back into place.

The seven old west figures then rose to float a few feet off of the ground as they led the land-bound forms toward the now deserted town.

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It took the team members a mile or so to get used to the image of the period versions of themselves floating along effortlessly in front of them. By the time they reached the town however, they'd gotten over the oddity of the sight.

Old west Vin held up his hand, stopping the group in a copse of trees a short distance from the weathered buildings. Moving almost as silently as their counterparts, the modern men dismounted and followed the spirit forms until they were hidden behind one of the structures on the outskirts of the small cluster of houses and shops. The seven ATF agents almost perfectly resembled their nineteenth century companions as they all crouched side by side, only the hair appearing a bit different upon close scrutiny.

The team could hear the gunrunners moving around in the otherwise vacant town, getting snippets of conversation as they craned their heads to overhear. Spirit Vin disappeared to get an accurate count of the group's opponents, the modern men not even blinking this time as the slender form just suddenly vanished.

He was back shortly, appearing next to his present-day twin and holding up eight fingers. The others gave wolfish smiles. Fourteen to eight was good odds, especially with seven of them able to do more damage than their companions if necessary.

The two Chris' huddled together, while the rest checked their weapons. When the pair of leaders had a strategy worked out, they turned to share it with the others. Twelve heads nodded in approval, then the non-corporeal Chris and Ezra disappeared, materializing a second later in front of three of the gunrunners in the otherwise deserted street.

"What the hell?" "Who are you?" "Where did you come from?" echoed to the men still hidden. The three in the street pulled their weapons, but the two forms facing them simply disappeared as quickly as they'd come.

"Shit!" cursed one, as another crossed himself with his free hand, and the third nearly twisted his neck out of its socket swiveling his head around to try to see where the mysterious figures had gone to.

The ATF agents stifled laughter at the sight, peering cautiously around the sides of the building they still crouched behind.

Old west Buck and JD were next to go bedevil the confused men in the street, the pair giving amused grins as they rested their hands on the butt of their Colts. This time the man who had nearly given himself whiplash panicked and fired off a shot. The bullet missed as the two smiling brunets disappeared into thin air, but as the two leaders had hoped, the sound brought the rest of the criminal gang running.

While the three original miscreants babbled out their story, the spirit versions of Josiah and Nathan appeared this time. The older incarnation of Vin had floated to the roof of the livery and had his rifle snugged to his shoulder as he looked down on the group below.

At a gesture from his Chris, the modern sniper followed suit, gracefully climbing up to the second floor of the nearby hotel and settling onto his stomach as he sighted down the Winchester he carried.

Grinning evilly, the rest of the ATF team scattered to find more advantageous positons while their spirit personas continued to confuse and scare the gunrunners by appearing and disappearing all around them.

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Chris gave their alter egos about ten minutes to thoroughly befuddle the enemies. When the gun sellers started firing wildly, he motioned for his team to wait a bit more. The old west figures drew and fired as well, each hitting an opponent in the arm, leg, or shoulder. The blood that began to flow and the howls of pain were very real, even if the forms couldn't actually use deadly force.

Buck and JD scurried off to find the contraband while the criminals were occupied, hurrying back a short time later to whisper to Chris.

When the gunrunners had used up most of their ammunition firing at shadows, the modern Larabee stepped out into the street, fingers lightly brushing the bone handle of the Colt he wore high on his hip.

"You boys had enough now?" asked the soft voice quietly. The low tones were never raised but carried quite well to the leader of the gun ring.

"Who the hell are you?" Dark eyes turned to look at Larabee and then flicked around nervously as if wondering if he would disappear too.

"Federal agents. You're under arrest."

The other man began laughing almost hysterically as he pointed his gun at Chris. "Ain't never seen any federal agents dressed like old west cowboys! You're lyin'."

A feral smirk curved up the lean blond's lips as JD and Ezra stepped up on either side of him.

"Did he just call me a cowboy, JD?"

Dunne's bowler-topped head nodded seriously. "Yeah, I think he did Chris."

Buck ambled out then and crossed in front of the cluster of men, moving over to drop into a wooden rocker that rested on the boardwalk behind them. The tall figure had an extra gunbelt hanging over one broad shoulder and he gave the men a big smile as he passed them, then let a chuckle escape as he seated himself and stretched out his long legs.

Ezra reached to brush some dust off of his white cuffs, showing his gold tooth as he glanced at the eight figures in front of them.

"At least once." he added for good measure, drawl even thicker than normal as the emerald eyes picked his target casually.

Josiah had wandered up and was now leaning on a support post cleaning his fingernails with a huge hunting knife. He gave the assembled gang a toothy smile and pitying shake of his head as he looked over at them.

"He hates that."

Chris' dark-clad and menacing form took a step closer to the speaker, the grin that curved the chiseled lips appearing to dare the man to take him on.

"Did you just call me a cowboy?"

"Easy mister. I was just sayin' that ya don't look like any federal agent I've ever seen."

Before Larabee could reply, one of the other gang members spotted the blond's twin stepping up behind them.

"What the hell?! There's two of 'em!"

The other spirit figures appeared then.

"Shit, there's two 'a all of 'em!" yelled another man as he swung his pistol wildly around trying to pick a target.

It was deathly silent for just a moment, then the gunrunners started aiming at whatever form was nearest.

Fortunately for the live team members, several of their opponents were out of ammo and hadn't taken the time to reload. The others didn't know who to shoot at. The old west seven took advantage of the confusion, moving into place to draw the fire away from their flesh-and-blood companions. The two Vin's shot with practiced accuracy from their roof-top perches, wounding the clustered criminals below them. When one of the gang got a bead on the live version of Buck, ATF Tanner took him out with a shot neatly placed right between the eyes.

Six more of the gunrunners were now down holding freely-flowing wounds as they cussed the demons surrounding them. Watching their bullets appear to go right through bodies that disappeared had caused a couple of the men to babble incoherently, and the evil grins and unerring aim of the two twin dark-garbed figures had made another pair soil their clothing.

Looking around in dismay and disbelief at the ruins of his 'crack' gun ring, the opposing leader suddenly lost his tenuous control and turned to fire his last bullet directly at the Chris standing in front of him.

Larabee was standing with the old-fashioned Peacemaker in one hand and a modern .45 in the other, both pointing down slightly as he waited to determine who his next target was.

Even as the movement of the gang leader in front of him registered, both hands raised their weapons and twin bullets found their mark in the other form's chest directly over his heart. Another round punched a neat hole in the man's forehead just before he crumpled to the ground.

The shot that the gunrunner had fired passed between the two darkly dressed figures in front of him that were the last things he saw as he crumpled to the ground in a limp heap.

As the rest of team Seven tied up the remaining gang members and Nathan checked their wounds, the pair of blonds stepped like mirror images to eye the dead leader. Modern Chris knelt to examine the bullet holes. His gaze then flicked up to his old west alter ego in surprise.

"He'd be dead even if I hadn't gotten him in the chest. Your bullet to the head would have killed him without me."

Green eyes exactly like his own looked back at him in amazement. "I didn't think I could inflict a deadly shot."

Broad, black-clad shoulders shrugged as dexterous fingers flipped the Colt once and then slid it back into the modern Larabee's holster. The lean form rose gracefully.

"Maybe the fact that it was me you were trying to save made a difference." A wry grin then curved the sculpted lips. "Hell if I know! I'm still not sure this isn't all a group hallucination or something!"

A matching grin answered him as the other Chris did the same little flip with his gun and then dropped it into his own holster.

"I know the feeling. Wondered the same thing myself when we all woke up like this. Ain't really figured it out after all this time."

Nodding in perfect understanding, the pair turned to join their companions.

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A few hours later the two sets of seven were gathered back at the Wild Horse Ranch house.

The ATF members had brought the vehicles up and loaded the surviving gun runners and the two dead bodies into them and taken them to the nearest authorities. The wounded men's wild stories had convinced the local cops that they were on something when they interrogated them. The sheriff and one of his deputies had accompanied the team to the ghost town and gotten pictures of the area where the shootout had occurred. The evidence of the spirit figures' involvement had disappeared as easily as the forms themselves did. Considering the bizarre way the prisoners were acting, the cache of weapons and explosives that the team showed them, and the reputation of the Magnificent Seven themselves the cops saw no reason to suspect that things had happened any differently than the agents' statements said.

Nathan had inspected the dead leader before his body was turned over and had come to the same conclusion that Chris had. The other Larabee's shot would have been deadly even without the modern leader's hits.

"Guess that means you'll be able to protect the town on your own from now on." said Buck with a grin as he sipped on the finger of Scotch that his counterpart had poured him.

"Maybe." answered the old west version of Larabee. "Guess we won't know unless we need to use lethal force again."

His modern alter ego raised his glass in salute. "Well, we'll be around if you need us."

The rest of the team nodded as well. "Yeah, we're connected now. You can't get rid of us even if you wanted to!" added JD with a big smile, his dark-haired twin grinning in excitement.

Buck reached to slap present-day Dunne while his old west version did the same to the other 'kid'. The two Vin's started egging the pairs on, while both Ezra's pulled out small notebooks to take bets on who would win the scuffles. Each version of Josiah looked on tolerantly, while the Nathan duo each told the now wrestling brunets that they weren't fixin' 'em up if they hurt themselves.

Two sets of pale green eyes met in resignation.

"This is gonna be a hell of a ride." murmured both together as they downed the rest of their whisky in one deep swallow. ATF Larabee looked at his counterpart with a hint of a grin when he got his drink down. "Sure ain't gonna die of boredom, though."

The old west version gave an identical smirk. "Ain't that the truth!"

His modern twin bobbed his brows. "And just think of all the bad elements we can take on together."

Blond brows rose in return. The the chiseled mouth tilted even further as the duster-clad form met the gaze of his present incarnation.

"I am the bad element."

Tee-shirt garbed shoulders shook in reply. "Ain't that the truth! So am I!"

Laughing both figures poured themselves another round of Scotch and settled back to watch their combined 'brothers' antics, smiles of contentment on their faces. It was good to know that the seven would always find each other no matter what the time period.

by DMA


End file.
